


Something of a Surprise

by dragon_temeraire



Series: Stiles is a Hottie [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Confident Stiles, Derek is a Failwolf, Derek is thirsty, Everyone Is Alive, M/M, Pining, Sexy Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Stiles is a hottie with a body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 17:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6618871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow, while Derek wasn’t paying attention, Stiles got really hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something of a Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Written based off this post by fauvistfly on tumblr: 
> 
> who wants to write me surprise!biceps! fic where stiles layers and layers himself in clothing but sometimes it’s fucking hot and then surprise!biceps! followed by the sequel: surprise!abs! where it’s even hotter and stiles leans down and wipes the sweat off of his brow with the bottom of his t-shirt and surprise!abs! and then the final part of the trilogy: surprise!dick! where, well, i won’t give you any more spoilers. use your imagination. nice, isn’t it?
> 
> Set in a magical timeline where everyone is alive, and everyone is also 18.

When Stiles comes up the stairs, he finds that every single door and window in the loft is propped open. Derek is leaning in the doorway between the main area and the balcony, and he looks pissed.

The loft is sweltering.

“Dude,” Stiles says, picking absently at the long sleeves of his plaid shirt. “What the hell?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Some asshole crashed into a pole about a block from here. Took out the electricity.”

Stiles is amused, even though he can feel the sweat beading on his forehead. “You heard the whole thing, didn’t you?” He can see Derek is sweating too, but because life is unfair, he actually manages to make it look attractive.

“Of course I did. He’ll be okay, but his car’s totaled. The electric crew is working on restoring power, but it’s probably going to take a couple of hours.” Derek nudges the coffee table he’s got set up near the doorway of the balcony, where it’ll hopefully catch a little of the breeze. “Here’s the books you were wanting to look at.”

“Awesome,” Stiles says, ambling over. He glances at Derek again. He’s wearing a tank top, and Stiles is seriously considering asking to borrow one. Because while his layers were appropriate for the 70 degree weather outside, they’re much too hot in the stifling loft.

He toes off his shoes, finding that the hardwood floor is blissfully cool against his burning feet. He shrugs off the plaid button-down as well, leaving him in just a t-shirt. He tosses his excess clothing on the couch, and looks up to find Derek staring at him oddly.

He looks down at himself. Did he sweat through his shirt already? He sure hopes not. It’s still ridiculously hot, so he rolls the sleeves up to his shoulders and steps closer to the doorway in hopes of a breeze.

Derek looks over at him, then makes an odd, strangled sound and stomps out to the balcony.

Weird. Guess he can’t ask borrow a tank top after all.

 

*

 

Derek really hopes no one’s on to his not-so-clever plan. Because ever since that day in the loft, he’s been suggesting only outdoor activities for the pack, mostly in the hopes of seeing a repeat performance. It _is_ summer, so he’s hopeful his suggestions of lacrosse practice and basketball games and a hike through the preserve weren’t too transparent.

All this time, Derek had been seeing Stiles as the same skinny, awkward nerd he’d always known, covered in too many layers. How could he have imagined that when Stiles took off those extra clothes, he would have a glimpse of lean, muscular forearms? Or imagined the way he’d looked almost naked, standing there in just a thin t-shirt? It had been the final straw, though, when Stiles had rolled up those sleeves to reveal sleek, gorgeous biceps. He’d had to turn around and leave, for fear of saying something inappropriate.

Because Derek had always seen Stiles as cute, but never as _hot_. It was totally worldview altering.

But his fascination had led the pack to playing out in the sun together pretty regularly, so he supposed it wasn’t all bad.

Derek’s latest attempt has them all at the park, playing Frisbee in the late afternoon. They’ve been at it for a while, and Derek’s honestly surprised no one’s taken off their shirt yet, especially considering what show-offs werewolves are. And besides, aren’t teenagers always using any excuse to take off their clothes? Not today, apparently.

It’s right about then, however, that his intervention comes. It appears in the form of Isaac, Boyd, and Erica sneaking back from the parking lot, armed with an arsenal of water guns. Of course, Isaac shoots the first blast of water right into Stiles’ face.

Taking their cue from that, Erica and Boyd start running around, gleefully soaking down the rest of the pack.

Derek isn’t really paying attention, though. Because after sputtering and laughing good-naturedly, Stiles lifts up the hem of his shirt to wipe his face. Derek sees it in slow motion, like a scene from a movie. The fabric moves up, up, up, revealing a firm muscular waist and a set of glistening six-pack abs.

Lydia, who’s squeezing the water out of her hair, does a comical double-take. “Damn, Stiles,” she calls appreciatively, and wolf whistles at him.

Scott turns at that, grinning sunnily. “Dude, nice!” he calls, and jogs over to high-five Stiles. “Those workouts are really paying off.”

Derek would say something, anything, but he’s too busy trying not to swallow his own tongue. Because seeing Stiles with sexy arms was bad enough, but seeing Stiles with delicious, toned abs… It’s almost more than he can handle, really. Seems his plan has worked a little _too_ well.

It only gets worse. Better?

Scott, being the supportive friend that he is, immediately suggests that they play a round of Frisbee shirtless.

Of course he does.

As Derek stands on the sidelines, watching Stiles run around half-naked on the field, he begins to wonder. Is Frisbee a contact sport? He’s pretty sure it could be. He tries not to think about what it’d be like to tackle Stiles. Really.

At this point, he’s not sure if he loves Scott or hates him.

He gets a jet of water to the back from Erica, who thinks she’s much too cool for Frisbee. Instead she darts through the players, soaking them indiscriminately. So thanks to her efforts, Derek gets a free reenactment of all those vaguely obscene shampoo commercials. Stiles runs his fingers through his hair, his head tilted back and neck arched, while water streams down his chest and stomach and slips beneath the waistband of his jeans.

Derek’s feeling rather overheated, and he’s pretty sure he needs to leave. Right now.

He ends up making some kind of excuse and bailing, because getting turned on around other werewolves is never not going to be awkward.

But despite his shame, he manages to snap a quick picture of Stiles before he goes.

 

*

 

Stiles shows up the next day, wearing a tight, soft-looking shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. His hair is damp, and he smells soapy clean.

“You were acting kind of weird yesterday,” he says, strolling past Derek into the loft. He throws himself down on the couch, legs spread obscenely wide.

Derek’s pretty sure he’s not wearing any underwear. Flushing, he jerks his gaze away so fast that he ends up stumbling over nothing.

“…kind of like that,” Stiles says, looking at him oddly. “Are you doing okay?”

Derek tries to say he’s fine, he really does. “Why are you wearing that?” is what comes out instead.

“Um,” Stiles says, looking down as though he’s forgotten all about his clothes. “I like to be comfy? I worked out earlier, so I figured I’d shower and change before I came over here.” He shrugs, grinning. “Didn’t think you’d want me over here all sweaty and stuff.”

Derek swallows down a reply, something about getting Stiles sweaty in a way that has nothing to do with fitness. He tries not to think about what Stiles would taste like, what Stiles would sound like. He mostly fails. Seriously, he’s so unprepared for this sexy, irresistible version of Stiles.

He realizes he’s been standing there awkwardly when Stiles leans forward, looking intent. “What’s going on, Derek?”

“I…” Derek begins, but finds he has nothing appropriate to end that sentence with. He doesn’t think _I want to get you naked and touch you everywhere_ is an acceptable way to answer. Stiles is still staring, waiting expectantly, so Derek decides to just cut his losses and go.

But it’s sort of weird to flee from your own home, so he heads to the kitchen instead, intent on a cold drink of water. Maybe he’ll just pour it on himself. At least then he’d be distracted from imagining what Stiles would look like, sprawled out and panting in his bed.

Too bad, then, that Stiles has followed him in. He slams the fridge closed just as Derek’s reaching for a bottle. He flinches back just a little, and Stiles smirks.

“So,” he says casually. “I asked Scott what was up with you.” He crowds in close, blocking Derek in against the counter and looking him right in the eye. “And you know what? I thought he was joking at first. But now I think I’m starting to get it.” He leans closer, almost whispering. “He said you’re acting weird because you think I’m sexy.”

Stiles’ thighs are brushing against his, and his scent and proximity are so distracting. Derek can feel his arousal climbing, and decides there’s no need to lie. “Hot,” he breathes out against Stiles’ cheek. “I think you’re hot.”

“Yeah?” Stiles says, grinning and rocking back on his heels. “That’s awesome. I feel the same way about you, you know,” he says conspiratorially. He dips in and kisses Derek before he can say anything, letting his whole body press against him.

Derek groans hungrily at the sensation, kissing Stiles back. He moves his hands down from Stiles’ shoulders, fits them between their bodies to touch the curves of Stiles’ pecs, then down to the hard ridges of his abs. Stiles’ hips buck forward, and he moans against Derek’s lips. He smiles, and takes that as his cue to go lower.

As Derek slides his hand down Stiles’ pants, fingertips brushing bare skin, he thinks he couldn’t have gotten a better surprise.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr ](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
